The Dance
by imagineandsoar
Summary: During the Mid-Summer celebrations, Merry finds the courage to dance with Estella. Oneshot.


The night was wearing on, as hobbits all over Buckland ate, drank, and danced in celebration of the Mid-Summer's Eve. An anticipated tradition among the folk of the Shire, and indeed, among most of Middle Earth, it was a day (and evening) looked forward to with delight by most every hobbit across the community of Buckland.

Clusters of the joyous folk sat around tables, feasting and drinking to their hearts' content. Many were twisting, jumping, clapping and twirling over the grass, dancing to the music of drums, tambourines and flutes. Others were content to chat amongst themselves in little groups, or sit smoking their pipes alone. Sitting in this crowd, watching the perspiring dancers was Meriadoc Brandybuck, better known as Merry. He was sitting on a discarded stool, leaning back against a stack of barrels, with his feet up, chewing a pipe between his teeth. Wisps of smoke curled upwards and disappeared high in the sky, drawing his attention away from the crowd and towards the stars.

In the past, he had spent his time with his cousin, Frodo Baggins, but this year, Frodo was unable to attend the festivites, some of the roads had been washed away from floodwaters and left certain folk stranded in their own villages. Frodo lived in Hobbiton, a respectable place, a few days walking journey from Buckland. Merry did not visit as often as he would have liked, and he seemed to be seeing less and less of Frodo and his uncle Bilbo these days, but this was not the issue pressing his mind that fine night.

His attention was fixed on a certain female hobbit dancing with her brother. Estella and Fredegar Bolger, Fredegar was a slow mover (being a bit on the heavy side) and not half as talented or graceful as his younger sister. Oh, did she look beautiful that night. And not merely beautiful, for most of the hobbit lasses dancing with her could have easily fit that description. But like a faerie, or an elf-maiden, pure and sweet and ethereal. She wore a smooth, purple dress, tied round her thin waist with a blue bow, her golden curls were bouncing over her back, little purple flowers interwined like a climbing plant.

It was plain to his eye that her unique kind did not belong in a crowd of plump, huffing-puffing old fuddy-duddy's and the hopelessly romantic boys and girls who were too nervous to even put their feet in the right place. No, she was not like them. She floated over the ground, like she weighed nothing, her feet went effortlessly over the grass, moving as if it was her nature. Her full, pink lips broke into a smile as Fredegar stumbled to the right. With expert hands, she righted him and they continued on their way, passing the day-dreaming young man. He felt the hem of her purple skirts brush over his toes, and the breeze they made as they swept by, left him with a delightful smell. It was all to familiar to him, Estella's scent was wild, like her, it was of grass and wind and an overwhelming freshness, the smell of flowers, or tree-sap, or leaves. He took a deep breath, taking in the intoxicating scent, perhaps the most lovely smell in the world.

The music round abruptly came to an end and a cheer went up from the crowd. He clapped momentarily out of politeness and good upbringing before returning to his silent thought.

Fredegar had had quite enough dancing for one evening, and slowly went off to join his feasting fellows. Estella waved him off and stood at the edge of the dancing ring, waiting for an invitation. After waiting a moment and receiving none, she went and sat down in a corner, pulling her knees up to her chin as she always did. From where he sat, Merry thought he could see a hint of disappointment and hurt in her bright, green eyes, but he couldn't be truly sure.

"The night's still young m'lad."

His father, mild-mannered, placid, gentle-hobbit, SaradocBrandybuck came and sat beside him, his own pipe protruding from his lips. In looks, Merry and his father were almost identical. Both possessed the same thick, curling locks of sandy-brown hair, light blue eyes, and rather large noses. Everyone said they were like two peas in a pod, but in personality, they couldn't have been more different.

While Saradoc was a proper, respectable hobbit who was known for his kind-heart and well-liked and known among the Shire-folk, Merry was often considered a nuisance. He was a practical joker, a wild card, the black sheep of the family. He was sweet and friendly, but still far too childish in his general behaviour to usually be even considered by any of the older hobbits. He tried his best to represent the house of his father, the Master of Buckland, responsibly, but he usually failed.

"Good evening, papa." Merry replied courteously, hoping that if he acted distant, his father would take the hint and leave him in peace. Maybe long enought to make up his mind about Estella Bolger.

His father smiled, a smile that crinkled the skin around his eyes and made Merry's heart that much lighter.

"What are you afraid of?" he asked, his question startlingly elusive. Merry frowned.

"What are you talking about?" he replied, confused. Extinguishing his pipe and leaning forward. He knew their conversation would last longer than he'd originally hoped.

"That pretty lass over yonder." he answered with a chuckle "You been watchin' her all night, I seen it. Don't try to con me now, Meriadoc. I know you to well. You two been friends since you're child years, ain't that right?"

Merry nodded, blushing deeply, hoping that it was undetectable in the semi-darkness.

"Then why don't you git on over there and ask her for a dance?"

The question took Merry completely by surprise. Even angering him a little. He leapt to his feet.

"It's nothin' as like that, papa!" he hissed "You know as much as I that we are friends, and friends only! And she'd be the first to admit it too! Don't be suggestin' such nonsense."

His father was silent for a moment, yet still seemed undaunted, for there was a hint of a smirk in the corner of his lips. Merry sat back down with a huff. His cheeks burning.

"If you is just friends like you say, than what's the harm in two friends havin' themselves a little dance?"

His question made sense to Merry. Too much sense. Why did his father have to come and destroy his little shield, protecting him from rejection. He couldn't really explain to his father how unworthy he would feel dancing with such an otherworldly creature. He would stumble, and forget the steps, and be staring pointedly at the ground so as not to find discomfort in her eyes. And he would look as ridiculous as her brother and the crowd next to her. He couldn't ask her. He wouldn't ask her.

"I don't wanna ask her." he said after a moment "She can do a heck of alot better than me anyhow."

His father stole a glance at Estella, still with her knees tucked upwards, her chin resting delicately on them. She was smiling a little, but also seemed hurt by the fact that she was not wanted by any as a dance partner. It was because she was an orphan that they didn't want anything to do with her. She wasn't rich, or respectable or anything special materialistically. But to Merry, she was worth the world. Maybe he could work up the nerve to ask her for this one dance. To have just one magical dance with a girl akin to an elf-princess would keep him the rest of his life. If he could have just that one dance...

His father rose, patting his shoulder.

"Think about it son." he told him before walking away "She's not one to let slip through your fingers."

What could his father possibly mean be that? Merry wondered as the older hobbit slipped beyond sight into the endless crowds. Sighing, he turned back to glance at Estella, and was met with a great shock, to see her coming his way.

He quickly stuffed the pipe back in his mouth, only to remember that he'd let the flame go out. Leaning back, he let his face fall into a sort of bored look, and gave her a acknowledging smile as she sat on the grass at his side.

"Hullo, Merry." she beamed. Now that she was close he could see the perspiration shining on her brow, and her cheeks bright red from exersion. She was panting ever so slightly, but still he couldn't help noticing the way she smiled at him.

"Hullo." he replied, forcing his tone to match his dreary expression. He would not let her catch on to what he was thinking. Though the continous thud of his heart seemed to have grown louder than the drums and his palms were sweating fervently.

"It's a beautiful night, I wish Frodo could have made it this year." she went on, trying to make conversation. Merry nodded.

"Indeed." he replied, chewing the end of his pipe.

"Why aren't you dancing?" she asked, genuinely curious "I haven't seen you lift one toe all evening."

"Not up to it." he answered with a shrug "Besides, there ain't no one to partner with."

"What are you talking about?" she laughed, it struck him how gay and free her laugh sounded, like music, but sharper and closer to his heart. His stomach fluttered at the lovely sound.

"There's four fine young lasses over that way," she entreated, pointing out several handsome girls seated neatly nearby. As she spoke one of them was snatched up by another male and went dancing over the pavilion.

"Well, three now." she giggled, rising to her feet and taking his hand. She pulled his wiry frame from the chair and pushed him onwards. He dug his heels in and shook his head.

"What's the matter with you?" he hissed in her ear, pulling them both back into the cover of the shadows. "I don't want to dance with anyone tonight! Besides, they're all older'n me. They'd just laugh."

She gave him a coy smile, glancing down at the hand he had on her arm. He released his grip quickly and stepped back.

"You told me you weren't afraid of anything." she teased with raised eyebrows. He huffed.

"Now, 'Stella that ain't being fair." he whined, noticing how easily her smile preyed upon his heart.

"Well, fine then, if you won't dance, come walking with me. I've about had it with crowds for now."

He readily agreed to this and they set off into the deepening shadows. Through the fields unlit by torches, they ran through the long grasses, swatting the occasional misquito and giggling softly as their swift feet carried them farther and farther away from the party.

Collapsing on the side of a small hill, side-by-side, they made themselves comfortable to watch the celebration from a distance. The fires and lights, combined with the music still clear and loud in their ears, made them feel lost in a sea of blackness, belonging to no one but each other. Merry felt Estella reach for his hand.

"Look," she whispered, pointing up to the sky "That's the star, Elendil, Bilbo once showed it to me. One summer night, a very long time ago."

It was a very bright star, it's radiant light making all the other stars look dreary and dull. It was beautiful, sitting in the heavens directly over the on-going party.

"It's lovely, 'Stella." he smiled.

They sat in silence for awhile, admiring the constellations above, breathing in the fresh night air, and basking in the enchanting music playing below. The heavy glow of the full moon above lent a mysterious air to their surroundings. Merry suddenly noticed how much cooler it was here, away from the sweating dancers and the torches and the cooking fires. His stomach gave a low grumble at the thought of food. He sighed and plopped down into the thick, wild grass to rest his tired limbs. Estella stretched out on her stomach beside him, toying with a little, yellow wildflower nearby.

"Merry..." she began hesitantly, as if unsure of herself "Do you ever feel...like...like you don't really...belong?"

Her question hit home, and he wanted to answer 'yes', but he simply replied.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you ever feel like your the odd one out. Like no one really understands you, no one can really love you?"

He pondered her words momentarily, struggling for an answer.

"I suppose, sometimes. But everyone feels that at some point. Besides, it's likely a stronger feeling for you, cause...cause your parents aren't here to reassure you that you are loved."

She looked away and he wanted to apologize for bringing up the tender subject of her dead parents. Swiping away a tear with her left hand, she climbed to her feet and gave him a warm smile that took his breath away.

"Come." she beckoned "Dance with me, Merry. We can hear the music loud and clear from here. And I have no other dance partner besides my brother. And he's just the clumsiest thing in the world."

She held out her delicate hand, worn a little from years of hard work, but still soft and smooth.

Did she really want him to dance with her? Rascally, wild, unrespectable him? Though every emotion in him screamed 'no' he forced himself to stand and take her hand. She would be hurt if he refused her, and he could in no way explain his reason to not dance.

"Alright, then." he smiled, gently stepping into a sort of slow dance to match the music playing below. She beamed and followed him gracefully, her legs carrying her in an unnatural, otherworldly way. She was enchanting, lovely, perfect. Now that he had dared accept her offer, he felt no fear or worry or regret. How could he? When he was staring into her sparkling, green eyes, shining up into his own blue ones. What silliness he'd experience before had quickly vanished, replaced with only a deep sense of statisfaction, of a happiness and peace he'd never dreamed of. This was a different dance than the ones he shared with other lasses. Different than the ones of older, married couples. Different than that of youngsters foolishly finding this thing called "romance" for only a minute, and then discarding the feeling as if it never existed. This dance was special. Under a canopy of stars, over the gentle, untouched hill. Surrounded by ancient trees, standing gaurd over their private pavilion. His best friend a mere five inches away. She smiled shyly from beneath her eyelashes.

"What you thinking of, Merry?" she asked, pleasantly.

"Bacon, a bath and my bed after this night is over." he joked. She giggled and dropped her gaze.

"What are you thinking of?" he asked in turn. She gave a small sigh.

"Missing Frodo, mostly. A bath would be lovely after this as well."

Merry gave a small yawn, his eyes were growing heavy, he was unused to such late hours. Even though he was seventeen now, his mother usually refused to let him stay up later than ten o'clock. It was likely midnight now. The yawn spread quickly to Estella's lips and she reached up to rub her eyes.

"Stay awake now." he ordered "You remember last time we spent the night out together."

"Of course." she grinned, blushing a little, recalling a summer of their childhood when they spent the entire night outdoors, playing under the stars. It had been a magical time, Merry knew the feeling was mutual. He wished greatly that they could do it all again tonight, but someone would likely be after them.

Hands still clasped, she twirled gracefully out of his arms and swung back in, according to the music floating to their ears nearby. Momentarily surprised, he gathered himself to catch her upon return. Her vibrant purple skirts brushed across his shins as she spun like a butterfly over the dewy grass. Her curls bounced, the bright, little violets shining in the half-light.

"I like your hair." he commented as he drew her back into himself again. She flashed him her lovely smile.

"Fatty helped me." she replied with a slight shrug "Mother used to put my hair up this way...it looked better when she did it."

"You two did a nice job." he offered momentarily. She sighed, then letting the smile return, looked up into his handsome face.

"You really are too kind to me, Merry. You know?"

"I don't believe there's such thing as being 'too kind'." he answered with raised eyebrows. She giggled.

"I suppose..."

"And no kindness could be wasted on you, 'Stella." he winked, a little boldly. She blushed.

"Oh, Merry, you are a dear." she grinned, playfully tugging at one of his sandy curls.

Far away, across the fields, the song came to an end. A round of appreciative applause went up from the crowd in the pavilion. The two friends stopped and looked back. Estella stepped away and Merry reluctantly let his hand slip from hers. It was like she'd stepped out of a dream for that one dance, those few perfect moments, where he'd held her hand and led her over the hillside. She looked back over her shoulder, and her sweet, innocent gaze smote his heart. Did she not know how he felt about her? Was he so good at concealing his emotions?

She went back to him, a special sort of gleam was in her eyes, she put her hands on his shoulders, then leaned up to gently kiss his cheek. For a moment, he couldn't remember where he was, or what he was doing, only felt the touch of her sweet, full lips against his skin. Then he suddenly felt her arms around him, in a embrace of sorts and it pulled him back to reality. Estella was in his arms, he felt the dampness of a tear on his chest where her head was resting. And he heard her whispered words.

"I love you Merry. Thank you for being my friend."

He couldn't speak, he could barely force his arms to return the heartfelt hug. He let his hand come to rest in her curls, rubbing them gently. Maybe he wasn't so foolish as he thought, maybe this angel from another world could come to love someone like him.

She drew back, wiping away the tear staining her smooth cheek, with a wave, she sprinted away down the hillside, across the field, and back to the party.

Leaving him standing alone. Yet again, he had missed his chance to tell her how he truly felt. But it had in no way been a loss, he'd gotten his dance with Estella, and it was his to cherish forever.


End file.
